Meeting McDoodle

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Doodly
doodly
doodly doo.

An eye
in the sky
and a cloud or two.

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Hyacinth Hats

Purple Hyacinth crushed by snow

Purple party hats prickle
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Snow Flowers

Yellow Daffodil in snow

Snow showers
bury
spring flowers
deep Continue reading

Echos

New spring leaves

Anyone who falters to a stop,
mid breath, and
lets her words breathe,
then echo,
then die,
is a poet.

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Find the Divine

University of St. Thomas in Minneapolis photo by Laura Purdie Salas

Fresco at University of St. Thomas in Minneapolis Used by Permission of Laura Purdie Salas

The fairy tale, the prosaic,
the absurd and the divine,
find their way into myth,
story, art and rhyme.

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Spring’s Poetry

Skunk Cabbage -- Symplocarpus foetidus

Mudiferous,
squelching ramble
beneath bare branches
and yearning buds
yields a vast harvest
in my wintry soul
of spring faith. Continue reading

Happy Birthday to Robert Frost

 

foo dog dragon statue, white

Dragon’s voice rings
with thundering wings.
The foo dog’s yawn
brings the dawn.
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Roses for Noses

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My nose misses roses
through long winter days,
but Trader Joe’s knows.
There, summers scents
come in cellophane.
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Peace is like Sunlight

Willow tree

Peace is like sunlight:
I yearn toward it.
I can’t hold it in my hand.
I want it most
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Yellow Thing

Daffodils with blue sky

I enjoy every
yellow thing
that blooms in
early spring.

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: This ditty is in honor of writing and rewriting manuscripts galore. Plus, today, I won an award-winning book thanks to a cat named Maggie. Continue reading

Who are You?

Vermont Pond with loosestrife

I prefer tea.
I prefer rain to drought.
I prefer quiet to parties.
I prefer gardens in the centers of cities
where I can lay on my back and imagine flying with birds.
I prefer to feel than to be numb.
I prefer grief to forgetting.
I prefer dragon to draggin’ and phoenix to flames.
I prefer the golden rule.
I prefer chocolate to anything else
except passion and a lover’s approval.
I prefer to worship love than hate.
I prefer wildflower meadows
to gardens sliced by boxwood canyons.
I prefer to build rather than tear down.
I prefer the rhetoric of peace but cannot abide genocide.
I prefer mystery to someone’s else certainty.
I prefer to go unnoticed by Murphy’s Law.
I prefer happy to perfect and joyful to tidy.
I prefer to melt in the rain
than to send out flying monkeys.
I prefer books to movies except the Lord of Rings.
I prefer walking to gyms.
I prefer children laughing to silence.
I prefer silence to rage.
I prefer rage to despair.
I prefer to share despair than to turn away.
I prefer to look for magic rather than
ranting about its absence.
I prefer poetry to newspapers.
I prefer humble to Trump-eting.

Who are you?

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: I was inspired to write this list poem by The Drift Record post celebrating Possibilities, a poem by Nobel-prize winning poet Wislawa Szymborska. When I understood who she was, I better understood myself.

I also put this up in honor of Women’s History Month and World Poetry Day (Monday).  Please feel free to write your own preferences and link up here, there or everywhere. Or put yours in the comments. Have a magical weekend!

Love Stays

 

Love never fully goes away;
it lingers, like a vine white with winter,
remembering its heyday.
Its memory can sting like a splinter.

Best to give the vine sunshine;
don’t let it grow stiff and cold.
Green leaves unfold on mine
because new love grows from old.

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: I’ve joined Twitter, and my what a fun free-for-all party it is: a cocktail party with air kisses, heady drinks and no one pigeon-holing me with long stories. If you’re on Twitter and want to friend me, I’m @BrendaDHarsham. Eventually, I’ll figure out how to put that somewhere useful on my sidebar.

I’m not sure I like how WP publishes to Twitter, though. I wasn’t fond of the way it publishes to FB (no line breaks in text), but that’s better than how it publishes to Twitter. It just publishes the title then a link. None of the text of the post appears, just one photo. No matter how engaging your first line or two, no one on Twitter will see it unless they click the link. Now I understand why so many people put hashtags in post titles — because otherwise, they never show up in your tweet, and won’t pop into anyone’s search on that tag without them.

And you can’t edit a tweet. You have to delete and redo if you post in the middle of the night in a state of advanced exhaustion (and grammar has departed for the day).

All that said, the people on Twitter have been welcoming and lovely. Hugs all around.